<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>shelter me (comfort me) by oncewewerezombies</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26769541">shelter me (comfort me)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies'>oncewewerezombies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Diamonds and Clubs Month [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternia-Focused, F/M, Fashion &amp; Couture, Fussing, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pacification, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Social Media</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:41:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26769541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan runs into trouble on social media.</p><p>Kanaya assists.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eridan Ampora &amp; Kanaya Maryam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Diamonds and Clubs Month [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shelter me (comfort me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>September 22-30 - Free Space</p><p>A little late but here we are!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You give out a pusherfelt little groan as you read the text on the screen of your palmhusk, and throw your forearm over your eyes as you collapse in stylish disarray onto the couch. It's a scene designed to pull at some pale strings, but you ain't hamming it up or nothin. You ain't the type to go around overdramatizing the effects of your emotions. You just got a whole lot of them, that's all, and sometimes they're a bit overwhelming for the average bystander.</p><p>"My life," you declare to the room, "is <i>over</i>."</p><p>Your heartless moirail just hums companionably, and keeps on stitching. You wait a moment for Kanaya to do the pale romantic thing and exclaim over your distress, or rush over or somethin, just <i>somethin</i>, but for some unbelievable reason, she doesn't. You clear your throat pointedly, as if she could have missed your declaration of woe.</p><p>"Kan."</p><p>"Eridan." She pulls a thread through, studies her cloth and fusses a little before pulling the thread tight again and leaning down to bite it off clean. Still not even glancing in your direction. The unfeeling wench.</p><p>"<i>Kan</i>, I am dyin' over here and I thought you should care about somethin' like that," you sniff petulantly, and pull yourself up so you can sprawl over the arm of the comfortslab and look her in the fuckin ocular. She smiles a little, but she doesn't lift her head to return your gaze. "I thought a moirail was meant to be a succour and a comfort; they sure as fuck hadn't met you when they said that kind a thing about the quadrant."</p><p>"They hadn't met you, either," she says, cool as a cucumber and you mime being shot to the pusher, slumping into artful disarray on the comfortslab. Kan just shakes her head slightly, and then actually looks up. You can't resist the urge to stick out your lower lip a little, just a teeny tiny little bit of a pout. Not too much. Just enough. You never wanted to go in for bein an actormentor, but you've FLARPed for long enough that you've got the hang of the basics. </p><p>"You're so mean," you complain, and stay where you are. Like a limp strand of kelp above the tideline, until she comes over and smooths your hair back from your brow and deposits a gentle kiss there. Her thumb, barely warm, rounds your hairline and comes up to smooth away the tension lurking around one of your hornbeds. "You're the fucking wworst, Kan."</p><p>"I know." She settles on the couch with you, and you drag your sorry carcass over to her, shifting to put your head in her lap for her knowing hands to soothe your brow and your horns. Your cheeks. You're not really that upset, you're not. It's nothing. It doesn't mean anythin' what anyone trolls you. You don't care. Kanaya smells like clean linen and flowers, and something as dry as sands. "I've told you that the block function is the best function of both Chittr and Grublr before, Eridan."</p><p>"Social media was a mistake," you say into her skirts, and Kanaya's fronds smooth over your cheek, papping you with just the tips delicately. She has the most subtle pap of anyone you've met, and you can feel your breathing slowing to match her delicate little whirls across your pacification receptors. "I looked good in that outfit; it was one a yours." You sigh again, heaving it up like some terrornovella actormentress. This time, you can almost hear Kanaya purse her lips. You draw your fingers over her thigh, just little circles the same as she's doing on your cheek. "That one with your colour stitched into the hem a the cape an' that, you know, where you worked your sign into the hand-stitched embroidery. With the pearls for buttons? <i>That</i> one." </p><p>With Kanaya as your moirail, you've never been so well-dressed. It's fucking amazing to have someone in your life who takes fashion and couture as seriously as you do. It's even better that they're your moirail; maybe you're fronting some money for materials, but Kanaya can do things with a needle that the fashion hives can only <i>dream</i> of. Eventually you're sure your whole wardrobe is gonna be nothing but Maryam Originals, and honestly? You can't wait.</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Kanaya's single word holds a lot. There's a lot of people who make the mistake of thinking just because Kan's a little fussy and given to meddling, that maybe that means she's weak around the osteal support column. Anyone thinking that should have a looksee around her hive when she's doing her spring gardening and butchering the shambling undead who've taken up residence over the winter while she's been inside sheltering from the piercing icy winds sweeping in off the desert. It sure is something to see. That's all you've got to say about <i>that</i>.</p><p>You feel her lap shift a little as she reaches into a pocket to pull out her own palmhusk and you can hear the subtle clicks as she does something on it. Now you ain't usually a betting type of troll, but you'd put down a few caegars that she's pulling up your Chittr. It's not quite even money with your Grublr, but you usually do most of your FLARP costume reveal on Chittr, and you've never allowed comments on your Instagore account. Kan's not stupid, and she knows how you do your shit.</p><p>"<i>Well</i>." And with that pointed comment, you can hear the click-clickety of the palmhusk's virtual keyboard speeding up into machine gun fire as Kanaya starts to hammer out something in reply to whatever she's reading. With a small grin, you close your eyes and consider the idea of taking a nap in the warmth and comfort of Kanaya's lap.</p><p>There's something real soothing about listening to what you know is her eviscerating through text mouthbreathing assholes who fail to appreciate the highlights of fashion when it's presented to them on a fuckin' silver platter. You'd pay money to see her do the same thing with her chainsaw, but you guess you'll wait and see if she sets off an online feud that turns physical. The feeling that she wants to defend you...it's nice. You'd say you'd better not fuck this up, but you know Kanaya won't let you.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>